


dancing (with our hands tied)

by 26stars



Series: AU August 2020 [22]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Drunk!Daisy, F/F, Found Family Feels, Humor, Relationship Advice, Wedding Guest AU, Wedding Planner AU, Wedding Planner!Bobbi, a little angst from Daisy that's pretty canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26stars/pseuds/26stars
Summary: Day 29 Wedding Planner AU+ Morse Code+ “I’m the wedding planner at this wedding and you’re a drunk guest who will not stop hitting on me please I’m trying to work no I can’t dance with you omg let me find you some water”
Relationships: Bobbi Morse/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Series: AU August 2020 [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860802
Comments: 13
Kudos: 44
Collections: AOS AU August 2020, Women of the MCU





	dancing (with our hands tied)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bubblebirdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblebirdie/gifts).



> I think this is the closest I've gotten to a RomCom AU but then it took a turn for feels...go figure.

This was not Bobbi’s first wedding. In fact, this one was a milestone—her hundredth. She’d been in this business well before she got to solo-plan a wedding, so between her years as a guest, her years as an assistant, and now her years as the lead planner for her agency, Bobbi felt like she’d seen it all. Drunk guests, family drama, food fights, a suspected drug deal, a runaway bride, an ambulance call…

Really, getting hit on by the guests was fairly low on the list of Problems Bobbi had at her job. “Sorry, I’m working,” usually didn’t do the trick on it’s own, but by now, she knew how to hit the right tone with most categories of people to shut them down the quickest—a murder stare for single men, a wedding ring for drunken uncles, a gentle let-down for the young women. Generally, she didn’t have to get bossy with anyone…

But this girl tonight was really determined.

“Look, I know you’re not really married because the bride is your old friend and she told me you got divorced a few years ago…” the brunette is insisting even as Bobbi stares straight ahead, ignoring her. “And I just hate being at weddings alone so can I just stand here next to you so I look like less of a loser?”

“Who are you worried about thinking you’re a loser?” Bobbi asks, forgetting for a moment to not respond.

“All our old co-workers are here, and I’m thirty years old and still single while everyone else is married, and that just hurts, you know?”

The brunette is leaning against the wall beside Bobbi, her hands in the pockets of her jumpsuit and head tipped back with a pout.

“I’ve planned weddings for people in their seventies getting married for the first time,” Bobbi tells her. “Thirty is hardly a buzzer.”

“I think you’re trying to make me feel better, but I’m not wanting to spend forty more years alone first, you know?” the guest says, snagging a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray. “It just burns that some people can meet their soulmate when they’re seventeen, be smart enough to realize it before that person gets away, and then…”

The young woman gestures at the dance floor where the bride and groom are slow-dancing, holding each other close.

“It’s like…they didn’t even have to try. The universe just brought them together. Meanwhile I’m out here searching high and low and…” The woman tips back the glass to take the rest of the champagne in one gulp, but she loses her balance a little before she straightens back up.

“Okay,” Bobbi says quickly, grabbing for her with one hand and the glass with the other. “Why don’t we sit down for a minute?”

Once she’s planted the woman safely in a chair at a vacant table, Bobbi sits down next to her, smoothing out the skirt of her professional navy dress while setting a fresh glass of water in front of the girl.

“I bet you can make pretty accurate bets on couples at this point, right?” the guest says, gesturing at the dance floor again. “I’ve heard you’re quite the pro in this business. How does the future look for my friends?”

Bobbi smiles, leaning back in the chair. “I would never put a stamp on someone’s life with another person. How long it lasts is very much up to them.”

“Yeah, but really, I bet you’re pretty good at reading couples by now, right?” Bobbi can feel the woman staring at her, though she’s still watching the room, making sure everything is running smoothly while she takes care of this guest. “Any couples in this room that you think will make it to the end of one of their lives? If so, I should go ask them for advice.”

“Want to know what the best relationship advice I’ve ever heard?” Bobbi says, finally turning to look the young woman in the eye. “Stop putting energy into finding the right person. Start focusing on _being_ the right person. Not in a I’ll-be-whoever-you-need-me-to-be kind of way, but in an I’m-not-waiting-for-a-partner-to-start-living-my-life way. Any people who aren’t worth your time will be intimidated by that, anyone who values that will make an effort. Cuts down on the heartbreak remarkably when there are only a handful of worthy efforts around.”

The woman holds her gaze for a minute, seeming to have understood Bobbi’s meaning, but unfortunately, the next thing she does is start to cry.

“Oh darling, it’s all right,” Bobbi says, immedaitely reaching for the fanny pack around her waist and producing a pack of tissues. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She’s comforted enough emotional people on a wedding day that she goes on autopilot for a minute, patting the girl’s back while she sniffles into her tissue.

“I don’t want to be pathetic,” the girl finally manages after several minutes of sniffling. “I’m just tired of being alone. And every time my friends get married, it feels like part of my family is disappearing. Like, of course they’ll be around, but things are different. And I feel like such a child, resenting people for loving someone more than me, or having people in their life that take priority over their friends but…I lost my parents when I was young, and I don’t really have family outside of my friends. So it just hits a little harder, you know?”

With a sigh, Bobbi moves her chair a little closer and puts a comforting arm around the woman’s shoulders. The guest doesn’t really need any encouragement, leaning eagerly into Bobbi’s touch and snuggling beneath her arm, still sniffling a little into her (stain-resistant) dress.

This isn’t in Bobbi’s job description, but she can certainly ‘clock out’ for a minute to be a decent sister to a woman in need.

“That sounds really hard, and I’m sorry you’re going through this. I can’t imagine how it feels to lose your parents, and it must hurt a lot more to feel like the family you’ve found is being taken away, one way or another. But the cool thing about hearts is that they’ve got a fairly bottomless capacity for love. Kids can’t fathom loving anyone more than their parents at first, but then we grow up and that’s all we do. Moms don’t know how they can love another kid more than the one they’ve got, but when another one comes, their hearts grow to fit. Someone breaks your heart, and you swear up and down you’ll never give someone that power again…but then you meet the right person, and your heart manages to find the strength to try again.”

“Where are you in that process?” the woman asks knowingly, and Bobbi purses her lips over her head.

“Still kind of in the ‘swearing’ part,” she admits. “But I know it won’t last forever. Nothing does.”

“Love doesn’t?” The woman sits up, and Bobbi automatically reaches for a fresh tissue, cradling the woman’s cheek and helping her wipe the ruined eye-makeup off.

“Anything that lasts forever deserves to be worshipped,” Bobbi deflects as she works. “We make the mistake of putting people or relationships on that pedestal, making them gods when they don’t have the power to bear that burden. But the good news is, love isn’t some abstract, unpredictable thing. Love’s a _choice_. Commitment’s a _choice_. And when two people commit to validating each other’s worth by choosing to keep loving sacrificially to the end of their days…well, that’s something beautiful. I’d worship that if I saw it too.”

She’s finished cleaning the woman’s makeup, but her hand is still on her face. The girl really has some beautiful brown eyes…

“What’s your name?” the guest asks, reaching up to mirror the gesture, and this, finally, snaps Bobbi out of her trance.

“Bobbi,” she answers, ducking out of the woman’s touch, pulling her hand away to gather up all the used tissue on their laps. “And I actually need to go get the bride and groom ready for the cake cutting.

The can feel the guest’s disappointment as she pulls away and gets to her feet, but Bobbi isn’t done yet.

“Here’s some mascara,” she says, producing a tube from her fanny pack. “And here’s some more tissue if you need it. Also, I’m working right now, but if you want to hang out some other time…here’s my card.”

The guest takes the offerings with a hopefully smile. “You don’t even know my name yet.”

“Let’s change that,” Bobbi says with a smile as she sticks out her hand. “Bobbi Morse.”

“Daisy Johnson,” the woman says. “Thanks Bobbi for ‘being the right person’ for me tonight.”


End file.
